


Taking It In

by eaten_by_bears



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multi, Plug and Play, Public Sex, Rodimus Prime/Blurr - Freeform, Springer/Arcee - Freeform, Springer/Arcee/Rodimus Prime, Springer/Arcee/Rodimus Prime/Blurr, Springer/OFC, Sticky Sex, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eaten_by_bears/pseuds/eaten_by_bears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus needs to burn off some energy fast, and Springer shows a little emotional acuity for once. Springer and Roddy are the only pair that 'face in the main action of the fic. All the pairings in the 'additional tags' field just come up in dirty talk and fantasy.</p><p>Comments and criticism are welcome. Hope you enjoy it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking It In

Springer walked down the hall of the headquarters building at Rodimus’s side. His circuits were still charged, the battle subroutines singing from their last encounter with the Decepticons. Great timing on Galvatron’s part. They hadn’t even had time to clean up, just to wipe the worst of the soot off and get back to headquarters to meet the ladies and gentlebeings of the press. Rodimus was in worse shape than he was; he was twitching.

“Nervous?” Springer asked.

“No,” Rodimus said. “No way. I’m psyched for this. Pumped.” He nodded as he spoke, punching a fist into his palm. “Press conference– Go!”

Springer shook his head. “Scrap, you’re wired.”

“Yes, I’m wired!” His voice was too loud. “How am I not going to be wired? I almost got my head taken off by Galvatron’s little... shuriken... frisbee... cannon... thing. I’m wired!”

“Okay, okay.” The new weapon had been kind of harrowing. Springer put an arm around his waist and drew him closer, rubbing his side. Rodimus went willingly. His plating was hot, the charge of his EM field high and wild. “So you have a right to be wired. But we can’t send you out there like this.”

“We can’t cancel. You know how they get when you don’t answer their questions. They just start making things up.” He waved a hand. “Anyway, it’s easier this way.”

“What way?”

“Right after a battle.” Rodimus was swinging his arms, as if warming up for another fight. “Still got the energy. I feel like I could do anything.”

“Can you hold still for five astroseconds?” Springer asked.

“Shut up,” Rodimus said. “You know what I mean.” But he let Springer put an arm on him and hold him still, standing in the hall together.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Springer said. “You’re high on near loss of life.”

Rodimus rolled his optics. “Yes. I am. And I’m going to feel invincible for another half a joor, so let me at ’em before it wears off!”

Springer shook his head. Wipedown or no, it was pretty clear what Roddy had just been through. Even if the organics in the audience couldn’t sense his field, they could see the feverish brightness in his optics, his shaking hands. And the robots could see everything. Springer wouldn’t trust a guy that looked like that with an amalgam-goldfish, let alone a planet. They had to do something about it. “Look, we don’t have to cancel. Just come with me.”

“What?” Rodimus asked, looking around the hall. “Where are we going?"

“We’ve got two breems until it starts,” Springer said. “We’re going to bring your energy levels down below ‘manic.’”

“Less than two breems. And I’m not manic,” Rodimus said, sulking. But he went where Springer led him, following as he took him by the arm down a side corridor into a corner. He looked around, puzzled. The corner was empty. “What are we doing here? You suddenly into meditation or–”

Springer turned him and kissed him, and Rodimus pressed up against his mouth, body moving into his. His actuators were tight, his movements jerky, and the heat coming off his plating almost hurt.

Springer backed him up against the wall, pressing his leg between Roddy’s to force them apart. He ran his hands down his chest, feeling the powerful vibrations of his engine. Roddy tilted his head back, baring his neck, moving as he was directed, optics dim and distant.

“Get your panel open,” Springer said, then he slid down Roddy’s frame to his knees in front of him. He licked at the red panel. Roddy’s moan was stopped halfway through when he cut current to his vocalizer. The only sound was his fans. They’d been about to kick on already, and it looked like this was enough to tip them over the edge.

Springer gave him a lick from the base of his interface unit to the tip of his already extended spike. He was dripping wet already, keyed-up hardware needing only the slightest provocation to turn on. He tingled with charge on Springer’s glossa.

 _//How do you stand running this hot?//_ he asked over the comm. line.

_//I’ll admit it isn’t easy//_

He took the spike into his mouth, sucking gently and sliding it in and out. Above him, Rodimus tossed his head back, gripping his shoulder kibble. He could feel the charge building. He ran his glossa around the top ridge of the spike, tasting the slick fluid that surrounded it and humming low in his throat. Roddy shuddered, and he had to grab his hips hard to steady him and keep him from clanging against the wall. He had to work faster.

 _//Open your port//_ he said, and Rodimus obeyed without hesitation, the panel covers to either side of his open stickyware array sliding open with the quiet _schick_ of well-used joints. Springer held Roddy’s frame still with his right hand, gripping harder as he reached for the cord with his left, brushing his thumb over the edge of it and feeling the charge.

_//Primus, Springer, please–//_

He opened his port and plugged the cord in, and he had to cut his own vocalizer to stifle a moan. The current was flowing hard, Roddy’s body ready and desperate. He revved quietly and took the spike in deeper.

 _//It’s good, Springer. It’s so good. Plug in?//_ Roddy’s hips tilted up, trying to coax him toward his hardline port.

He held him tighter. _//No way. You’re wired enough as it is. The last thing you need is more current//_

Rodimus huffed, but he didn’t pull away from Springer’s mouth. His spike was hot, tangy, and if anything, the current flowing over the hardline spiked higher when he was denied. Kinky glitch. _//Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll make it up to you. After the conference, I’ll make sure you get ’faced right//_

_//Yeah?//_

_//I’ll take you back to quarters and hold you down on the berth and spike you. Arcee’ll be there too. We’ll take turns, pass you around. Maybe she’ll plug into you while I’m ’facing you sticky style. Think you’d like that?//_

Roddy’s fans quickened, the low whirr building higher as they struggled to dissipate the heat building in his frame. Springer swallowed against his spike, and he had to grip him harder when he thrashed at the stimulation, bucking against the metal wall. He pulled him forward so he wouldn’t clang, making him lose his balance and cling to Springer's shoulders. He smiled to himself, pleased that he could get such a good reaction from him. _//I’ll show you how to really take it from a femme//_

Rodimus had played with Arcee before, mostly when he was still Hot Rod. But he'd had to lick her spike and rub her off with his hands and body to finish her. He was too tight, and he didn't know how to take a femme-issue spike. She was thicker than any mech her size, with deep ridges that caught on his tight valve. Her spike came to a double-pronged point that he could never manage to open wide enough for, so she’d almost always wanted to finish in Springer.

 _//You think I can?//_ Rodimus asked. _//I mean, it’s a new valve, it’s pretty snug//_

Springer purred, slipping the spike in and out of his mouth as he thought of Roddy on his back, on his knees, taking it from Arcee. _//You’re more flexible than you think. I’ll show you how. We’ll use the thick lube, take our time with it and work you open. You’ll see. She doesn’t mind waiting if she knows it’s gonna be good//_

He was talking as much for his benefit as for Roddy’s now, imagining the young mech opening, struggling to take her, pink plating sliding against pink as she rammed it home into him.

He remembered his own first time taking a femme in his valve, the firm, unyielding pressure of her spike spreading him wider as she slid into him, how much time they’d had to take, and how badly he’d wanted her by the time he was finally able to take her all the way, his legs on her shoulders, her slim fingers stroking his thighs as she thrust into him again and again. Yeah, he’d love to see Roddy like that, panting and overheated, craving the spike. He’d sit behind him on the berth and hold him in place, wrap his arms around his chest and lick his fins to get him hotter. Or maybe Roddy’d rather he bite him. He took it so sweet when you hurt him.

 _//Maybe I’ll let her use the whip//_ he said.

Roddy’s grip tightened, digging hard into his shoulders. He’d struck a chord. _//You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want someone to treat you rough//_

 _//Yes. Yes, please//_ His voice was scratchy even over the comm.

 _//I know how hot you get when you’re hurt. We’ll make it burn, Roddy. She knows how. That’ll get you wet and ready for her, huh?//_ Arcee had never turned her whip on Roddy before, but slag, she’d be good at it. _//We can take turns with you, pass you back and forth, share you like a toy. Maybe we’ll bring Blurr in too. He’s planetside today//_

Blurr was hard to get off. You had to move fast, and Roddy was one of the few bots that could do it without making him do all the work. He was good at sucking him. Some magic combination of his racer programming, limber joints, and obsessive desire for approval let him keep up the pace to work Blurr’s spike until he overloaded without locking a neck joint.

The current came stronger over the hardline, and Springer slid his lips along Roddy’s spike in encouragement. _//You know I like to watch you suck him. Maybe I’ll spike you again while you’re doing him. Think you could keep it up?//_

 _//Slag–! Springer! Springer, I’ll do anything!//_ He was bucking his hips now, dying to be sucked.

He let him, rocking with the movement, letting his spike slide easily in and out. He could feel the charge building in Roddy’s systems. He had to be close. _//I know you will, Rod. You’re good like that. You’ll take anyone’s spike and be grateful for it, won’t you?//_

The power surged higher, and Roddy’s frame heated like fire under Springer’s hands and mouth. He drew back to lick the crest of his spike, teasing him mercilessly, bringing him closer to the edge. He could feel the crackle of charge under the sharp taste of interface fluid.

Springer imagined Roddy being used like that, opened wide, whipped and punished and forced to take spike after spike, being used for pleasure and then cuddled and rewarded for it. He always melted a little when someone else took control, especially if they acted like they were pleased with him. He shook off some of the weary caution he’d started carrying around. It made him look more like his old self.

 _//You wanna be a good boy for us, don’t you, Roddy?//_ He felt the EM field flare and pulse around him. He felt Roddy’s array spasm and shake. His valve was clenching behind his spike.

_//Springer, please– Spike me, use your fingers, anything. I need something in my valve, or I’m going to lose it–!//_

His field was spiking up down and sideways, frantic for release. Springer moved his hands across Roddy’s thighs, thumb stroking the inner edge. They were soaked with slick lubricant. He could do it, spike him off with his fingers. With the state he was in, it would probably take two astroseconds.

He smiled to himself around Roddy’s spike. _//No, Roddy. You gotta wait//_

He purred at the surge of energy that came with Roddy’s overload, rolling through him like thunder. He swallowed against his spike, holding his shaking hips steady as he drank down the fluid. He gave him an astrosecond to steady himself, to make sure he was done. His field was still flickering. Primus, he seemed so young like this, like a lost turbopuppy. Overload had always hit him hard, but now it was like it cracked a shell and left him open and exposed.

He stood up, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. His vocalizer came back on with a click. “You all right there, buddy?” He clapped a hand on Roddy’s shoulder.

Roddy looked back at him, optics distant and dazed. He nodded.

“Good.” His field was calmer now, smooth instead of jagged. The current coming over the line was a steady stream instead of a torrent. Springer disconnected them with a little regret. He wanted more of Roddy’s sweet attention and submission, but it’d have to wait.

“Primus, you’re a mess,” he muttered. Roddy’s legs were soaked down to his knee joints. Springer took a cloth from subspace to wipe it up. Sigma knew Roddy wasn’t together enough to do it himself. He had to fold it over to find a clean edge when it got too saturated to be useful. He had to fold it over more than once. He smiled a little to himself. At least he still knew how to get Roddy revved up. That hadn’t changed since he’d assumed the Matrix.

He closed his friend’s panel, his charged systems feeling a thrill of pleasure at the thought that Roddy wouldn’t close it himself. It was like he was open as long as Springer wanted him to be, open and ready and receptive. He could’ve hard-faced him right there in the hall, and Roddy would’ve said thank you.

“I’ll be right back.” He ran down the hall to find a waste receptacle for the sodden cloth. He wasn’t going to carry that around in his subspace pocket.

He passed a human reporter on the way and had to smile awkwardly as the guy waved, switching the rag to his other hand so he could wave back. He didn’t recognize him. It almost would’ve been worse if he had. Finally, he found a receptacle. He tossed it away and jogged back to Roddy.

He was standing upright now, not wavering so much, not using the wall. His optics were glowing nice and steady, at their usual brightness. “How you doing, buddy? Better?”

Rodimus nodded. There was a short burst of static, then the click of a vocalizer being reset. “Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m doing good. Thanks.”

“Glad to hear it. How do I look? Clean?” He turned his head so he could check him over for any lingering fluids.

He nodded again.

“Good.” Springer drew him into a quick hug, patting his back. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

He stepped back and took him by the hands. “You pumped for this?”

Roddy squeezed his hands back. “So pumped.”

“Good.” He slapped his back. “Now get out there and answer the slag out of those questions!”

“Yeah!”

He led him to the press room, shoving him toward the lectern when they arrived.

The conference went off without a hitch. Rodimus handled the reporters with an easy charm that Optimus would have envied, even when Hector Ramirez started posing awkward questions about the Tokyo Incident.

Springer spent the entire hour standing at the back of the stage, trying to shift his weight subtly enough that the discomfort in his crotch wouldn’t be obvious on camera.


End file.
